Protect
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: He can't change the past, he can't change her fear of the Hulk and he can't fix her. But he can protect her. And he doesn't need a shield to do it. Steve/Nat again. I need help.


"Your door was unlocked."

Her usual deadpan observation draws his attention from the television screen. His mindless viewing of some old black and white movie - how he manages to sit through them she has no idea - is happily forgotten in favor of her company. Sleepy eyes sweep over her shadowed form - tight jeans, tank top, glock strapped around her thigh, messy red hair and her usual impassive expression. He pretends not to notice the glock strapped to her leg; his body could heal itself quicker than most, yes, but that didn't mean he was any hurry to be shot. He lifts his head from the arm of the couch to get a better look at her, wanting to see all of her, if only to take inventory of all possible weaponry stashed on her person.

"You actually used it this time." He deadpans in response, noting the white plastic take-out bags hanging from her wrist - the one that wasn't strapped in a brace. He eases himself up into a sitting position, a hard mission having taken its toll on him. "Is that Thai food?"

"From that place down the street." Natasha nods, dropping the bags on his coffee table. Her green eyes take him in, noting his exhausted form hunched over on the couch. She can't stay long. He needs rest and she doesn't want to keep him from it. "Got a beer?"

"Fridge." Steve nods toward the kitchen, already digging through the bags. "What'd you get?"

She appears in the doorway, two beer bottles in one hand and a bottle opener in the other, hip pressed against the door-frame and a mischievous smile on her face. "You like spicy food, Cap'n?"

"As long as I get to eat it with a beautiful woman." Steve turns his head to grin at her and damn if it isn't the most comforting and arousing thing she's seen all day - hell, in all her time with the Avengers and Stark had tried some pretty damn charming grins on her but this was different. This was charming but predatory and she's pretty sure, he could make women fall at his feet with it.

Two flicks of her wrist send the metal bottle caps tumbling to the floor. She pushes off with her hip and saunters into the living room because, well, two can play his game. There was no way in hell he was going to turn her on that much without receiving a taste of his own hot medicine. They play this game all the time. He'll grin at her but a quick swing of her hips has him reaching for a cold drink or jumping into a cold shower. She still feels rather proud of those moments.

"Charming, Cap'n." She smiles slightly, tilting a bottle toward him. "Drink your beer."

He takes the beer from her and brings it up to his lips. Oh, sweet Lord. She didn't think it possible for a man to look sexy as hell while enjoying a drink but as usual Steve Rogers has proven her wrong. She averts her gaze before she delves too far into thoughts of what _else _those lips might be talented at - aside from drinking beer, giving orders and kissing her senseless, not that she minds the latter. She collapses on his couch and reaches for a container of food. He just laughs silently and scoops up his own container and a pair of chopsticks.

"What happened to your wrist, Tasha?" Steve inquires, inhaling the wonderful scent of spicy fried rice.

"Landed wrong," She tells him around a bite of chicken. "It's a sprain."

"Glad it's not more serious." Steve holds the container out for her at the same time she offers her container to him. He takes a bite of chicken and watches as she expertly picks up a ball of rice and sticks it in her mouth; firm and delightfully plump lips closing around the chop sticks in what should _not _be a seductive manner but well, he was male. Sue him. He's allowed to find her attractive, even at the most inopportune moment. "And I know you won't tell me about the mission."

"Threat elimination, not much to it." Natasha shrugs, reaching for another container. "Noodles?"

He takes a few noodles, twirling them around his chopsticks with the expertise of an experienced professional before popping them in his mouth. He points his chopsticks at her injured wrist and raises an eyebrow, "How long?"

"Two weeks, give or a take a day or two." She shrugs it off casually. "Nothing that I haven't dealt with before. I had Doctor Banner wrap it up for me before I came."

"I thought you were afraid of Doctor Banner." The question slips out mindlessly and God, if he doesn't want to stick his foot in his mouth now. He really had to be careful about what he said, especially around her. The woman could make a harmless pair of chopsticks a deadly weapon.

"I'm not afraid of Doctor Banner." She shakes her head, setting the container of noodles down on his coffee table. "It's not Bruce."

"Tasha, I didn't mean to..." Steve tries to apologize but it's futile, she won't accept it - she never does.

"It's alright." Natasha's green eyes meet his own baby blue orbs, honesty shimmering the pools of jade. "I'm not afraid of Bruce. I trust him. He wouldn't hurt me. It's the Hulk I'm afraid of."

"Tasha, the Hulk is Banner." Steve laughs softly.

"No, Steve, you didn't see the transformation I did. You saw how easy it was. I saw him fight it." Natasha stands up from the couch, trying in vain to hide the trembling that this conversation was reducing her too. "There was a disconnect. Bruce's reality is different from the Hulk's. Bruce's reality is being a doctor, a scientist. The Hulk's reality is anger and destruction."

Steve stares at her for a moment, his eyes taking in her trembling form. He's not used to seeing her so vulnerable. She's not like anyone he's ever met. She doesn't show her weaknesses but with him, that seems to be an exception. He stands up from the couch and moves around the coffee table, watching her carefully as not to spook her. She's already frightened because of a simple memory, he doesn't want to make that worse. Standing in front of her feels like standing in front of a frightened child. She's vulnerable and the tears in her eyes only seem to emphasize that.

"Tasha, it's over." He places a careful hand on her shoulder. "It's all over."

"I know. I know. It's just..." She tucks her chin into her chest.

"Tasha," His hands wrap around her biceps and he dips his head in an attempt to meet her eyes but she refuses. "Tasha, look at me."

It's with a certain amount of reluctance that she meets his piercing blue gaze again, mostly because she doesn't want to see the judgment in his eyes. To her surprise, it isn't judgment she sees in his eyes. It's nothing like that. It's different. There's something softer in his icy blue gaze, something intimate and tender, as if this moment, this web he has her tangled in right now is for them and them only.

"What?" Her voice is hoarse and she hates how weak she sounds.

"The memory of what happened in New York, whether it be on the helicarrier or on land, it's still there." Steve speaks in his authoritative tone but it has a certain tenderness to it; a gentleness that is for her ears only. "I don't care what anybody says, Tasha, we were all affected by it and we all have our own memories of that day. And sometimes, those memories return and we can't stop them."

"Steve - "

"I know, Natasha." He uses her full name for emphasis. He wants her to know that it's okay to be vulnerable around him. It's okay to show a weakness. "It's okay. I have my own memories of what happened that day and they aren't easy to live with."

"How do you do it?" Natasha can barely hold his gaze. Not now. Not like this. Not while she's vulnerable.

"I remember what I've got." Steve smiles tenderly, "Most importantly, I remember you. I remember us fighting together like we've always been on the same team. I remember there being no one else I'd rather have fighting by my side than you."

"You remember me?" Natasha questions softly.

"Of course, Tasha." He rubs her arms comfortingly. "Some nights, you're the only reason I sleep. I wouldn't sleep if I wasn't able to think of you. You aren't alone in this. You have me. You have everyone on the team. This isn't something you can deal with on your own and that's okay."

"I know." Natasha offers him a weak smile. "Thank you."

He brings his hands up to cradle her face in his hands, brushing her cheek with his thumb. It's comforting being near him like this; when she can feel the heat of his body, smell the spiciness of his cologne and revel in the strength she's enveloped in. His kiss is tender and slow, easing her off of that edge. It's an edgy nervousness that always creeps up on her when she thinks of New York. She isn't invincible but the beautiful thing about Steve Rogers - aside from, you know, everything physical - is that she doesn't have to be invincible. He doesn't want the Black Widow, at least not in a relationship sense, just Natasha. He just wants her. That's all he asks of her. That she be herself, that she be whatever she is or whatever she wants to be.

"You are always welcome." Steve whispers against her mouth. "Do you want to finish dinner?"

"Actually I should get back to SHIELD." Natasha sighs pulling away reluctantly. "Fury asked me to come by with some dinner, said you had a hard mission today."

"Not as hard as this was for you." He brushes a stray curl away from her face before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a scrap of paper. He presses it into her hand and speaks softly, "It's untraceable, even to SHIELD. You'll find an untraceable phone waiting for you in your mailbox. Call me anytime."

"How'd you get it without SHIELD knowing?" Natasha looks up at him confused.

"Alias." Steve grins down at her, "Brett Hendrick. Security Guard. Nothing more. Nobody questions things when you tell them you know the Hulk and Tony Stark is threatening to buy out the whole company and leave him without a job."

Natasha just laughs and pockets the piece of paper. "Thank you."

"I would give you a key to my apartment but you won't use it." Steve laughs, kissing her forehead. "Call me anytime. I'm always here, Natasha."

"I know, Steve."

With that, she slips off into the shadows, heading back to her home. He knows that she'll have more hard days, triggered by memories of New York. He knows that life isn't easy for her; hell it isn't easy for any of them. He knows that despite her insistance, there is a part of her that is afraid of Bruce Banner and probably always will be, even though Bruce has become one of their closest friends. There is nothing he can do about any of this. He can't make it go away and he can't change it but there is one thing he can do. He can make sure she never has to go through a rough day alone. He can make sure he's there for her, whether she needs him or not.

He can protect her.

And he doesn't need a shield to do it.

* * *

**My muse likes to toy with me sometimes and sometimes, he gives me stories out-right. That and Steve and Natasha are so damn easy - not like that, pervs, get your mind out of the gutter. This story was actually inspired by my ongoing conversation with ym4yum1. She mentioned Natasha being terrified of the Hulk when he first transforms in the movie so I decided to run with that and have Natasha tell Steve about it. Anyway, leave me some love Dolls. **

**Love ya, **

**RobertDowneyJrLove **

**P.S. Brett Hendrick really was an alias for Captain America in the comics and yes, he was a security guard. I do my** **research. **


End file.
